


Teach Me How To Be Loved

by finalheavenlockhart



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, probably sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finalheavenlockhart/pseuds/finalheavenlockhart
Summary: Sometimes all you need is a Zack Lived au to make things interesting. And lucky lucky us, square provided enough of that tasty fuel! Now I get to write trashy zifa because everyone needs that in their heart.
Relationships: Zack Fair/Tifa Lockhart
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WindupKuponut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindupKuponut/gifts).



> Opening chapter with contribution to the lovely indomitable and overall best writer ever, Rain aka windupkuponut. Much more adventure with touch of cute flirting because Rain's Zack is EVERYTHING.

They made it. They finally made it. They reached Midgar. In particular, they managed to trekk into the slums. The evening streetlights had just come on, reflecting in the puddles gathering on the ground in the wake of the rain. Water splashed as Zack stepped in a puddle, giving his comatose companion a good push to adjust his arm over his tired shoulders. His breath came out in short pants but he pushed on. They needed to rest but not yet… Not till they reached Aerith.

People around them stared but let the matter go. It was too dangerous to be friendly in the slums. In that moment, Zack was grateful that everyone minded their own business. A quick survey around revealed the train station close by. Perfect, they can get to Sector 5 that way. However, his sense of elation was short lived. As soon as he took the first step down the stairs to the station, something warm and wet had blossomed to the point where he could no longer ignore. Blood. He was still bleeding and didn’t know that. It was as if his body realized this too when he did. His vision tunneled and the busy city noises around him dulled to a slow pulsing beat. Or was that his heart slowing down?

“ _shit_ … “ he hissed.

Everything was fuzzy. He knew he was going to pass out. Ironic to fall right before the finish line. Regardless, his arms protectively cradled the limp blond as he fell, shielding his comatose body with whatever he had left. Unfortunately, that meant lights out. The pounding of the rain against his face did nothing to wake him up. Somewhere he heard footsteps and a woman’s voice. It echoed warmth as he drifted off into nothingness at the end of the station stairs.

\---

Rain made pitter patter against window pane when Tifa slammed open the door to 7th Heaven. In rushed haste did barmaid soak wooden floorboards with wet shoes and threw umbrella outside on the porch. The longer she sprinted through slums, she was sure of it; that had to be Cloud. Had mentioned last time they met his goal was to be first class in SOLDIER, and who was it but a young man with vacant blue eyes and ruffled blond hair in the uniform? Not common features at all.

But even if she were to disregard the interpersonal reasons. Those two were stranded at the sector train station. Vagabonds passed every so often, yet to see someone zapped of energy in that way. It reminded her of the way her neighbor in his absent minded walks through the area before collapsing by his bed; dressed in rags, barely vocal. 

She tried to shake it off. That feeling crawling on her skin, inching closer to her neck. The hair stood up along her nape, but the martial artist was calm when explaining the situation to her friend. Trepidation lay on her heart when Barret commented on how those SOLDIER junkies get shot up with pure mako. Though a part of AVALANCHE, Tifa had her own reservations as to what they were doing, and what it might achieve in the end. Others loyally followed Barret to the word, but Tifa believed they had a different rapport. Here. The bartender stared him straight in the eyes with brow furrowed and lip pursed.

“Help me.” Not a question, nor with hesitation. The only way he would listen was if the words were honest and her own. 

When they found the two, it appeared too late. Pale skin tone and bluish lips. But hadn’t Cloud always been on the pale side? Had his friend been the same way? Or was this but a reaction to the wild energy flowing through their blood streams, proving too much for their system? There were too many things she didn’t know. But one AVALANCHE member took Cloud and slung him easily about his shoulder, as Tifa wrapped an arm about the unknown friend’s waist. She hoisted him up and let his head make rest on her shoulder. “I’m hoping... You’re still alive. Can you hear me?”

\---

A dreamless loss of consciousness was disrupted with a soft voice. Zack struggled to follow the voice and use it as a guide out of this darkness.

“ – you hear me? “

_Yes, I can hear you._

He wanted to answer so badly but strength failed him as he hung limply across her arms. What was managed finally was a grunt in response. Zack could feel the contrast of the cold raindrops against the warmth of the body supporting him. This was a small indication he was alive.

When he no longer felt water fall against his skin, he knew they were somewhere inside. There was commotion and the sound of feet shuffling. Few times had he experienced sleep paralysis but this is what his current state felt like. He was trapped in his own body, unable to communicate to those around him. Was this what Cloud went through? Wait… _Cloud_ …

"Cloud!" his voice echoed his thoughts finally. The worry for his friend was sweeping over the paralysis and pumping more blood through his cold limbs. His eyes, initially closed tight, started to flutter open. Everything was fuzzy.

Through the haze, he saw a woman staring at him with eyes the color of aged brandy and concern that belonged to a much older soul than the youthful face they rested in. She was beautiful and familiar yet… he couldn’t place his finger how.

"W-where… where’s Cloud–"

Zack winced. His side was still bleeding, leaving his sun-kissed skin pale in the wake of blood-soaked clothes.

When he was able to open his eyes back and lift his head to get a better look at their savior, he struggled to focus as his mind played tricks from the blood loss. He could have sworn he saw wings behind the girl. A hand idly reached out, wanting to confirm sight with touch but it fell empty and grasped a lock of her hair instead.

Careful not to tug, he slid the lock slowly out of his fingers and let his hand drop with a smile.

"Everyone’s got wings these days…" He mused, clearly delirious.

_Unless i’m actually dead this time…_

"If you’re not an angel, can you help me stand ?" Terrible idea, clearly. He was in no shape to stand. Food, water, rest… and the comfort of knowing that Cloud was safe - all necessary things. Standing up? Not so much. Still, he insisted, starting to fight gravity and losing that battle sorely as he fell back against the wall he was leaned against.

The last time he guessed a girl was an angel, he was, for the most part, correct. Maybe this one was no different. 

"And if you _ARE_ an angel–" he rasped through dry lips "Then at least the gods did a pretty good job."

\---

“Breathing’s good too. Let’s focus on the breathing, then.” A noise, a catch. Heavy limbs pressed hard on her shoulders and back, but the bartender pressed on until the dry wood of porch greeted her feet. Patrons of the bar made faces and murmured low words, yet all of it fell out of earshot as Barret laid a man across table, Tifa leaning the other close by a wall as she cleared the room with shout of last call. 

If they knew what was good for them, they wouldn’t ask for anything, not even a shot of whiskey to handle the possibly almost dead body where their playing cards used to be. 

“Cloud’s next to you. He’s... Okay.” 

_As far as I know, anyway._

To her, he seemed pale and out of it. Barely conscious though eyes were half lidded. A darkness swirled about his normally beautiful azure gaze. Hair was the most recognizable thing, for it hadn’t changed since last she saw him save for the ponytail being cut off. It was what she noticed first at the train station. This man though, seemed more sane and functional.

Which... Isn’t saying much. He wrapped digits upon her raven locks and made sweet talk not a minute later. So it either had to be mako poisoning or the loss of blood. 

It wasn’t graceful, by any stretch of the imagination. But she didn’t throw him onto the table either. Barret helped. Both men wearing tattered SOLDIER uniforms. And just about everyone in the room was nervous about such prospects. Tifa leaned in, examined the man’s scars across cheek and flesh hanging at his side when he tried to jump up, almost knocked her over had she not steadied herself. “You’re not gonna think me an angel in a second... Barret grab the vodka. Bring me some warm water and towels too.”

There was a pang in her chest to leave either of them for even a second, but the bartender knew she needed to clean hands. First, she shredded vest to make clear space where skin should be. It wasn't too badly torn off, but blood loss was the main issue here. The vodka was cold, one of the many bottles chilled on ice. Which might not have been the best choice on Barret's part, but it would have to do. "Go ahead and scream if you need to, no one else is here. I'm pouring the vodka on now and I'll press the towel against the spot. It'll hurt. Just... Try not to throw yourself off the table okay?"

\---

Skin was already healing, flesh starting to mend. She was smart to grab alcohol. Infection was a bitch to heal, enhanced or not. In his stupor, he heard the words “vodka” and “scream” but put two and two together when he felt the wound touch air.

"Shit," He hissed, taking in her words. The pain was waking him up and gods, it would only get worse. 

With sudden realization, he grabbed the rest of his vest and pulled it off so that it hung off one arm and stuffed part of it in his mouth to bite down hard. Grit teeth enough to dislocate a jaw was not his idea of fun. Thankfully, when his head turned to bite the fabric, he glimpsed Cloud laying next to him on the table. A small wave of relief passed through his body before a scream threatened to tear through his skin. 

The vodka was cold and it burned. A groan of pain muffled by the shirt in his mouth was accompanied with an arch, his free hand gripping the side of the table. He heard and saw commotion from who he guessed was this Barret character say “don’t you break that table Shinra dog–” but he could give a fuck. It hurt. FUCK your table, he thought. 

_Fuck your_ _**chairs** _ _, fuck your_ _**vodka** _ _, fuck your_ _**sunglasses** _ _, fuck it_ _**ALL** _ _._

He wasn’t going to be drinking vodka for a long time after this. Still, he didn’t scream. Hojo’s lab was where he learned to keep quiet or the pain got worse. Sadists were like that. They fed off pain and he would give them no such satisfaction. Right now was no different apart from one thing– he had lost way too much blood and consciousness was slipping again. 

Thankfully, he didn’t pass out. Maybe it would have been better if he did. Either way, he lay on his other side, sweaty, panting and pale. The constant pressure to his wound was already slowing the bleeding.The lightheadedness was making him delirious again and he started laughing. It hurt to laugh. Barret wondered aloud if he was one of “ _them mako junkies_ ” then Zack felt a white hot rage fill him and he spat another bitter laugh out.

"–Gonna shove those sunglasses down your throat." He mumbled, not feeling a bit of remorse. He had enough juice to do it if he forced himself even though he knew it was a _bad_ idea. "and **YOU"** he turned to the angel with wine in her eyes "Next time you fuck me, maybe wine and dine me first!"

Another laugh. "Thank you," His raspy voice managed.Finally, he turned back to Cloud and reached out to brush some some hair out of his face. Seeing the half-open eyes, he instantly regretted everything. Cloud was watching the whole time.

_Fuck._

He needed to get up. Cloud can’t see him like this. Pleading eyes turned back to the girl and he reached. "Help me up..." He could at least sit up, right?

\---

“It won’t be long,” She reassured. Tone was even, mind focused. Where the words blew like hot air from his throat, Tifa tried not to laugh. Thimble, needle, and lighter to sterilize needle was given proper distraction from her newest patient having a nice chat with her friend. Really, no one knows how to appreciate Barret these days. The alcohol had cleared out most dirt, pebbles of gravel, and left fine marks that would heal up in a few days. In quick succession did nimble fingers sway to and fro, the needle and thread slipping through skin and closing what was a large wound. A few more rounds. And last she broke thread with her own teeth. 

This was not her first time doing this. In fact, this wasn’t even her first time doing it this week. What she learned off the streets through necessity quickly became what was needed in a slum without a hospital. When those who got into fights with ShinRa grunts or others that dare illegally get above plate to see what a better life could be came back down, there they’d be dragged into her bar and a request with barely enough gil to pass for a drink let alone stitches jingled in people’s hands. Whether she was good at it or the stitches kept was never the point. It was a matter of relief to know they had a back up plan, even in somewhere as dirty as sector 7.

Good, he’s got jokes. She quirked a brow curiously. He was vocal. Wasn’t that a nice sign? This time she let him see smile, leaned in and whispered to ear. “If I had fucked you, you would have definitely been screaming at this point.” 

Jokes. How else could people go day by day in this lifestyle without ‘em? She dropped blood soaked towel with the grand aroma of vodka and copper to the side of her table. Fresh, warm, slightly air dried towel replaced as she pressed gentle along the stitching. A comfort. Moisture for his skin, maybe offer of water to keep him from dehydrating. Yet when she considered it, the man clearly had other plans. Almost haphazard in the way he moved. She followed his gaze, and saw the half lidded stare of a familiar face. 

Are all guys like this? Wanting to seem tough. Cool. Is this their way of showing themselves as dependable. Her hand went to the mysterious man’s shoulder and pushed him down. Not too much force, just enough to overcome a man in his state if need be. She placed another towel beneath his head. “The answer’s no.” 

But she understood his need. Turned head and called to her friend who was beyond delirious if the way his fingers twitched and mouth lay agape was any indication. “Cloud, what year is it?” 

Probed for answer, blond spikes swayed and dulled eyes flickered. But the noise escaping him barely and as she figured, eyelids shut. As if giving up what fight he had left. She sighed, moved the warm towel up to see if any blood was still coming out. “Yeah, I don’t think he’s gonna remember anything from tonight.

Don’t worry. Your secrets safe with me," Softly did Tifa raise index finger to her lip, and it was riddled with his blood. Did not fully make contact, but the image imprinted immediately into his mind. She smiled. Serene. And thrilling with the touch of marks along her palms, his blood dripping from her hands.

Tifa Lockhart. 

Zack Fair. 

"No one needs to know how mean you were to Barret, right?”

And jokes. Always, there were jokes. 


	2. A Day in The Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let ya'll know, in this au Zack and Cloud arrive in Midgar months prior to the bombing missions taking place. So they were earlier since Zack didn't die during his supposed Last Stand.

Three Months Later

\---

The hush of morning commute resonated well with the barmaid. In brisk walk she was able to collect her thoughts, hand buried in her pocket where her fingers felt along the ridges of her 7th Heaven entrance key. Only one was needed to unlock front and back, as well as the door by the alley for the staircase down to her cellar. Supposedly. 

In truth, that door was bolted shut from inside, and nothing could get in. That's because they turned what was originally a cellar into a secret hideout for AVALANCHE meetings. And no one but Tifa had the means of unveiling such secrets with the barred door in the back alley. 

Only one key. 

Only one Tifa. 

So there was no good reason for her to hear a rattling noise by the right side wall of her bar, upon entering and turning lights on. A silence. Save for the whirring noise of ceiling fans turning, or the creak of floorboards as she made step. Pinball machine lit up in flashing lights, much like the greens and oranges of the jukebox. But no one inside. 

No. Instead, it was loud and dare she say, obnoxious coming from outside. A big, deep sigh, one after the other. Didn't quite gather it together until she went into the back to grab clean glasses from the large dishwasher. Steam rose, kissed her face, and she pulled out the crates slow, steady.

Another sigh. Bigger than the last. 

Tifa matched in tone this time, making her presence known. Sigh, warm and deep, mocking. Undid the lock for the alleyway, yet did not open it. 

This would not do, not for the one vying for her attention. He lifted his head from the heap and noted her hand and rag wiping down the small window in upper part of the door. Was she peaking out to see him?

No. 

Of course not. 

He crossed his arms and decided to clear his throat and audibly make it impossible for her to ignore. 

She lingered by the door and took a far longer time wiping down the windows and door than normal. But wouldn't tell him that on anything. Tifa's apron brushed along the door knob when raising on her toes to dust off some cobwebs in the corner when she heard him make a call JUST for her. 

How did she know? Was the only one around, yes, but more than that. Was the only one who knew what he was talking about from night prior. 

"Wow," He started, and his hand raised to brush his forehead dramatically. "What WASTE! Someone threw this perfectly HANDSOME and CHARMING young man away. Some people are so WASTEFUL!" 

Vermilion hues almost dilated in focus as she turned doorknob and opened immediately. Lips pursed. Jaw clenched. 

"When I say last call," Her fingers curled and stiffened at her side. "I MEAN, last call! Your fault for refusing to leave!" 

It should have been strange, the barmaid yelling in any capacity so early in the morning, and to someone laying in the heap of trash cans and bags. Her heart felt overexertion, build of energy simply from LOOKING at him. 

When he spoke, it almost always  _ doubled _ . 

Zack fair and the fine line of his jaw, scar like a cross and lips plump by design. He raised his hands and shook his head. "Cruel. Kicking me out this way, tossing my like trash in the can. It was so cold, Tifa, out here. In the dark." His grin was cheek to cheek.. What did he look, stupid? Of course he didn't sleep here. But woke up earlier than her to come back and lay until she showed up. 

Her huff and crossing of arms was entirely worth it. 

"You don't get special treatment just because you're YOU, Fair." 

A pause then. He looked up to the plated sky and mumbled low. "Kind of wish I did with you, though…" 

"Huh? I can't hear you."

"Nothing. You know, I would have helped you clean up." Zack sat up then, arm resting nicely on his knee and hand in his hair to ruffle it up. 

Her hands twisted the rag, now riddled with cobweb and dust. Shook her head. "I work here. You don't. What kind of bartender would I be if I made a customer clean up?" 

It had been this way for about a month now. He would stop by every night and sit at the counter directly in front of her. The one everyone seemed to want, he would walk in nonchalant and plant himself there for rest of the night. If someone had dare take the spot before him, he would sit next to them and talk 'em up, pass his water to the poor bastard and wait an hour before they eventually succumbed to the bathroom trick. By the time this other patron got back, Zack would be seated where he apparently felt he always belonged, and wave them off as though he hadn't done this nonsense to anyone else before. And he always stayed the whole night. It made her wonder if he had anything better to do, or if messing with her while having a drink was the best way he could think to use his time. 

Mind-boggling, this man. 

His bent knees and wiped off his pants, still using parts of his SOLDIER uniform despite a bit of an outlaw himself. Hummed to himself, turned and looked at her. 

"Then. Maybe I should." And then, it was there. The smile, pure confidence and charisma. Highlighted beautiful features of his thick eyelashes and bright eyes. Strong cheek bones. 

It passionately irritated her that she was caught off guard each time. Surely he must think he can get everything he wants with that smile. Wouldn't be the case here. 

Right?

"Should. What?" _Crap_ , her mind felt sheepish. _I almost_ _stammered_.

"Work here. Yeah, that's a great idea." He raised his hand up and rubbed thumb against his chin, pride practically beaming in his eyes. There was no lingering smell of trash on him as far as she could tell, for leaning in with narrowed gaze had also allowed her a chance to get in his space. No, just smelled like Zack. Faint scent of soap. Bodywash. Light sweat. 

Pleasant. 

She hated him. "What on Gaia makes you think you have ANY skills to work here?" 

It was too late, a First Class was on the move. In one smooth motion she was bypassed entirely and through the door, he was inside. Moved fast, that one. He examined the room as though it a battlefield to study, hands on his hips and pivoted feet till he saw her again. 

Big smile. Always a smile with Zack Fair. "I dunno. There's gotta be something you need, though. Maybe I could be a…" His hand smoothed over a table and picked up some rolled up utensils. "Busboy. Clean your tables, mop your floors. Wash some dishes. Make you happy?" He slid that last one in quick, and Tifa immediately approached him to take the utensils away from him. 

" **I** do that stuff just fine, thanks." What is this game he's playing so early in the morning? She turned her back to him and went over into the corner of her bar, picked a song on the jukebox and began picking darts off the board. 

"Ok…" He stared at his empty hand and made a circle, looking through to eye Tifa at work. Always on it, isn't she? "Then something else. Maybe I can get my hand on a violin and be the live performance of the night." 

"Do you even know how to  **play** the violin?" Didn't even look at him this time, placed the darts by the windowsill and moved past him. The other members would be showing up soon, and it would be awful to have someone else not in AVALANCHE interrupting their morning meeting he isn't supposed to know they have. 

"I'll learn, how hard could it be?" Following her, about 8 steps away as she walks around and turns things on. Places a notepad and pen in her apron. Sets glasses along her bar. Brings lemons and limes up to slice. He tries to take the knife from her but she stabs it into the counter and Zack raises his hands up stiffly. 

Kind of terrifying. 

"OK, ok! No violin. But something I can do, yeah? You're. Always here, Tifa. Can't you get some help now and then?" Was that a hint of sincerity? Behind the bar and on her stool, she always saw him there in front. Tilted her head, dark strands of hair cascading down her shoulder. 

"Mm." Persistent, Zack. She'd give him that. "I'm used to doing it alone, you know. Like being busy. I'm barmaid, busgirl, entertainer, bouncer-" 

"Bouncer!" He placed his fist into his other hand's palm, as though the idea came to him rather than being given. "Now THAT'S the kind of job I could do well." 

"No, I just said I do it myself, you're not listening..." 

"Who the hell are you talking to right now, Tifa?" Booming, powerful, the baritone voice of AVALANCHE's leader came about with the slam of double doors at the front. One arm with gatling gun and other with gloved hand. His signature tattoo gleamed beneath fluorescent lighting, and smile to greet his friend soon immediately turned to scowl upon seeing the answer to his question. 

"Fuckin' Shinra dog been following you home instead, huh? What happened to master loyalty?"

Sign for him to leave, definitely. Zack's brow raised, yet cheery attitude remained when he gave wave to the man with gun for an arm. "Nice to see you too, Barret. I'd kiss ya, but it's a little too early in the morning for the pda. Raincheck, though!" He scooted passed the domineering figure and turned back only to wave to both. 

"Bouncer's got a nice ring to it, I think. See ya tonight, Tifa." 

\---

"What is his deal, anyway?" Barret grumbled to himself as he picked up from the double doors to see Zack giving high fives to his daughter, who was playing with a neighbor kid out in the open area. Adamant disapproval was clear on his face, and when Tifa approached to place hand on his shoulder he made low noise. 

"He's not that bad, you know. Been helping out around town with Cloud. Maybe… Not everyone is how we see them, don't you think?" 

Her head peaked out just the same, and saw a softness in which her strange patron regarded the little girls shouting and smiling at him. 

"Yeah well. Once a dog, always a dog." Her friend spat out and turned to go to the pinball machine. Called for her to wait for the others before their meeting started. But Tifa didn't pay much mind. Pressed hand to the doors gently and looked on with intense carmine gaze. 

"Doesn't. Seem like much of a dog at all. Maybe he wasn't even one to start…"

  
  
  
  



End file.
